What do negative reader reviews of my favorite books say about me (or the stupid reviewers)?

House of Leaves is easily one of the most impressive novels, both in terms of story and in terms of execution, that has ever been written, and likely, will ever be written. So when doo-doo heads like this mollyflower Amazon reviewer write things like:

my immediate reaction is to dismiss this person as an impatient moron. However, when I then realize this person gave a glowing review to The Best of Mr. Bean DVD, I go from angry to compassionate. I mean, how could I hate someone with water on the brain?

(all caps courtesy of mollyflower; he/she is damn serious about the perceived hilarity of Mr. Bean)

Like House of Leaves, Blindness by Jose Saramago is simply an excellent piece of literature. It challenges, but also ensures a strong story with interesting characters, while delivering a unique writing style, something wholly unique to Saramago. However, if you only read this review

you might not be willing to give the book the dedication it deserves. But I’m honest enough to entertain the idea that perhaps Geraldine Freeman, “Avid Reader” (quotes being more telling than Geraldine likely meant) and I simply won’t agree on everything. However, then I read this 5-star review

I understand that more likely, Geraldine and I will never agree on anything. Using the powers of deduction, I can only assume she’s my exact opposite: quite racist, lover of deviled eggs, and unwilling to defend the first Limp Bizkit album in a barfight (3 Dollar Bill, Ya’ll is stellar!!!)

Another Blindness hater:

Even more amazing, this reverto person goes on to hate anther amazing work of art, Regina Spektor’s Soviet Kitsch album, not for it’s musical contributions, but, get this, because the CD case is cardboard! Maybe my ears aren’t highly tuned enough to detect the acoustic shifts due to paper-based packaging. Or, more likely, reverto hates breakfast cereal, saltines, pancake mix, and facial tissues.

If I met mollyflower, Geraldine, or reverto in a bar, we’d having nothing to talk about. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.